


Barleycorn

by Chauntlucet



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23287723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chauntlucet/pseuds/Chauntlucet
Summary: “You come here yourself? And what do I owe this honor to, milord?”Maedhros tilted his head back. Was silent for a moment before he swung himself down from his beast. The Elf Lord was often like that. Quiet, thoughtful, careful in choosing which words hedidspeak. Amlach could appreciate that in the elf. Nearly as much as he could appreciate the wry smile that touched just faintly at Maedhros’s lips, revealed as his feet settled upon the ground.“Wild fancy it would seem.” Maedhros sighed, his gaze turning out over the barley fields of the homestead he’d granted his vassal.“Oh,ayelord?”Amlach snorted. “You’ve never seemed the type.”“And yet…” He shook his head. “You would not believe the Rumors that reach my ears as of late.”
Relationships: Amlach & Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	Barleycorn

The sun beat hot. The air smelled sweet. The swing of the scythe in his hand a rhythm he soon became lost in. It was work, just as hard as any round of sparring upon the Elf Lord’s training grounds, but work he found he liked better. Honest work, good work, work that provided for the act of _living._ He preferred scythe-work to sword-work, in truth. Always had. He’d never _wanted_ to get dragged into this damnable war, after all.

But sometimes, it seemed, the sword-work was necessary. In order to live free. In order to ensure that the scythe-work could still continue.

Amlach shook his head, sweeping the scythe through his crop once more. Song carried across the field -- There were a few men that had followed him northwards to enter the Elf Lord’s service. They did not number the thousand that followed Bereg to the south, but he did not begrudge them that. He had been given a homestead and the opportunity to regain his Honor, and as of now -- as he and the other men working to bring in the harvest cut down the grain -- there were other things to take up his attention.

_“There were three men come out of the west, their fortunes for to try…”_

He couldn’t say at which point he’d begun humming along, even less could he say how long he’d been at it before the dusty thunder of horse’s hooves reached his ears. Only that he’d been taking a moment, mopping his brow and slicking back the sweat-heavy strands of hair from his eyes. He picked his head up, stopped leaning against his scythe and stood straighter, turning to see that looming shadow on the horizon growing into the full-formed shape of a man. 

No.

Elf. 

The way the sunlight struck off of that fox’s pelt of red hair? Amlach would recognize that anywhere. 

He turned and strode off towards the edge of the field, stopping just as the Elf Lord drew his horse to a halt. He made for an imposing figure fair enough, even more so upon the back of that great beast, and Amlach had to crane is neck up to meet that sword-steel gaze of his, cast in shadow by the sun hiding behind his head. Even so, Amlach’s brows quirked upwards and his voice was an easy drawl as he spoke. 

“You come here yourself? And what do I owe this honor to, milord?”

Maedhros tilted his head back. Was silent for a moment before he swung himself down from his beast. The Elf Lord was often like that. Quiet, thoughtful, careful in choosing which words he _did_ speak. Amlach could appreciate that in the elf. Nearly as much as he could appreciate the wry smile that touched just faintly at Maedhros’s lips, revealed as his feet settled upon the ground.

“Wild fancy it would seem.” Maedhros sighed, his gaze turning out over the barley fields of the homestead he’d granted his vassal.

“Oh, _aye_ lord?”Amlach snorted. “You’ve never seemed the type.”

“And yet…” He shook his head. “You would not believe the Rumors that reach my ears as of late.” He made a gesture for Amlach to walk with him, to follow as Maedhros began drawing off, towards the Stables, leading his horse behind him. Much to his Chagrin, Amlach found he was falling into step. The sweet smell of crushed grasses rose up aound the two of them as they walked on, scattered bits of barley covering the dirt paths that snaked ther way over the homestead.

“And yet you seem to.” the man pointed out, “Or atleast enough that you are here, now.”

There was a long pause then as Maedhros fixed the man with a flat look. The voices of the men in the field floated in to fill the silence. Amlach met that gaze in full, only lifting his shoulders in a shrug.

Maehros gave a sharp snort, rolling his eyes as he shook his head, turning his gaze back out ahead. 

“Well, are you going to make me ask then?” 

“A patrol from Himring came up this way not a few weeks ago, you will remember that yes?”

“I remember something of the sort.” Amlach paused, stopping in his tracks and narrowing his gaze, “Is there...any particular reason why you are repeating to me information I already know?”

This time there was a sigh, and with his hand still holding onto his horse’s reigns, Maedhros raked up his fingers through his hair. “Truth to tell?” He asked, “I feel I must set the scene for you, else you would think me as mad as I feel for saying it.”

“Which is to say, “ Amlach responded, “You are stalling.”

Another of those flat looks as Lord Maedhros’s tounge clicked against his teeth. He shook his head. “Amlach. What would you say if I told you I have come this way in order to investigate reports of human sacrifice occurring in this area?”

Amlach stopped. Amlach starred. Amlach burst out laughing as the words well and truly sank in, for what else _could_ he do? It all sounded so absurd! It was only as Maedhros continued staring him down, his face bearing not a trace of humor, that Amlach stopped, blinking at the Elf Lord.

“Oh...oh _gods…_ you are _serious_ aren’t you?”

“I would not be here, Amlach,were I not.” Maedhros sighed, “I would get no peace until I came!” He pushed on ahead again, towards the wide wooden building who’s gaping maw stood open, just ahead. “My men tell me of songs they heard sung among these feilds. Of a man still living while being cut down at the knee. Being tied and bound, and pricked through with pitchforks... _Imagine…”_ The last word said as Madhros ducked his head out of the Stables to meet the eyes of a staring Amlach.

 _Oh, no they couldn’t think..._ Slowly, as birdsong and the voices of the men from the field began filtering in to fill in once more the void of silence left by the dropped conversation of Elf Lord and Vassal, a smirk began to creep across Amlach’s features.

“My Lord, how good would you say the Taliska spoken by these elves of yours was?” He called after Maedhros as he darted inside the stables. 

“Adequate.” Maedhros replied, “Nothing to write back to Valinor to tell their mothers of, certainly…”

More silence. Again, the voices of the men came drifting through, like ghosts on the wind, beneath the sounds of Maedhros untacking his horse.

_“...So they've wheeled him around and around the field till they've come unto a barn, and here they've kept their solemn word concerning Barleycorn. They've hired men with the crab tree sticks to split him skin from bone, and the miller has served him worse than that for he's ground him between two stones…”_

“My lord…” Amlach ventured, “How good would you say your _own_ Taliska is?” _And more yet, your understanding of my people…_

Maedhros glanced up and over his shoulder, a smirk curling at his lips, and if Amlach did not know better, he would have said an almost _mischievous_ spark lighting the elf’s eyes. “Good enough to say that I have had a very long ride, Amlach, and I feel the least I am owed is a cup of Ser Barleycorn’s blood, for all he has put me through these past few days.”

Amlach grinned. He knew there was a reason why he liked this elf.


End file.
